Love on the Brain
by icantbestill29
Summary: Rachel is so screwed. Title taken from the Rhianna song. First attempt at Orphan fic.


Oh, and babe, I'm fist-fighting with fire

Just to get close to you

Can we burn something, babe?

And I'll run for miles just to get a taste

Must be love on the brain

That's got me feeling this way, feeling this way

It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good

And I can't get enough

When the cracks begin to show and Rachel's breath hitches in her throat, she will calm her erratic heartbeat by making methodical lists in her head of the ways Sarah Manning is completely insufferable.

1\. She is unkempt and careless.

2\. She is impulsive, to the point of being rash.

3\. Her voice is like sandpaper.

4\. She doesn't keep still. She is constantly fidgeting, coming into Rachel's office, picking up anything within reach.

5\. Her godawful bourbon habit and the fact she wouldn't know what a bloody amazing, expensive bottle of wine was if Rachel hit her over the head with it.

6\. SARAH MANNING PUT A FUCKING PENCIL IN MY BRAIN

After a while, she relaxes settles into the silk of her sheets and exhales. It is then and only then she can relax, ignoring that she can still smell Sarah's shampoo on her pillowcase, no matter how many times she's had them taken to the dry cleaners.

But it is of her clone she dreams. Of the same lean, sinewy arms, the flat plains of her stomach, of her goddamn hands all over Rachel's body, of her fingers finding their way to her cunt, of her mouth, her beautiful mouth devouring her. Waking up in a cold sweat, dripping wet with no choice but to rid herself of the awful tension in between her legs.

No matter how much Rachel plays it cool, no matter how much she regards Sarah as the enemy, the fact remains the punk is never far from her thoughts. It unnerves Rachel, to be so consumed. It wasn't what she bargained for. _Sarah_ wasn't what she bargained for.

At first, it was easy to see the parallels between sex and power, between lust and hate, between bargaining and begging. When Sarah started to show up to DYAD to negotiate, everything had made sense. Rachel had something Sarah needed and Sarah being Sarah knew exactly how to extract it from her. The trajectory worked and the dynamic worked and Sarah kept coming back long after negations were finished.

"This is sick," Sarah would mutter against the hollow of Rachel's throat, scraping her teeth along her clone's jaw line.

"Mmmm," Rachel murmured her agreement, choosing to neglect how the sharp corner of her desk dug into her spine as Sarah pressed her into it. "Do you want to stop, Sarah?"

Instead of replying, Sarah sank down onto her knees into the plush carpet, sliding her tongue up and down Rachel's clit, making her writhe, eventually making her beg for it.

She knew as well as Rachel did, the argument was a futile one.

The shift happened gradually, almost undetectable, but Rachel filed away the minute details. One day, Sarah's bite was more like a graze, she didn't slam Rachel into the desk or the wall with brute force, instead she slid her hands around her waist and pressed against her with an odd gentleness, one Rachel hadn't thought her capable of. Instead of arching away from the proclone as Rachel fucked her, she leaned in close, burying her face into Rachel's neck, her hot breath almost making the other woman lose her concentration. It was how she hooked her legs around Rachel's middle while her fingers slipped inside of her, it was the way she started to place softer kisses on her inner thigh, her hip, the dip between her neck and shoulder. It was how when she strolled into DYAD, she'd kiss her first, lingering a bit longer than necessary before things got more physical.

All of these things set warning bells off in Rachel, warning bells that should have heeded a signal to stop, to put a fucking end to the nonsense. Rachel Duncan was part of no one, no sisterhood, and certainly no part of Sarah Manning. Allowing herself to feel anything but combined lust and disgust for the woman who shared her face would lead to pure shit and being of sound mind, she knew it.

Yet, Rachel shoved down her misgivings and allowed Sarah to come to her apartment, to invade her clean, white space with her garishness and her thrift store clothing and her abrasiveness. She didn't know when it was she started stocking Bourbon, but it sat neatly in the back of the liquor cabinet, hidden from Rachel's view. As long as she didn't reciprocate, as long she turned a blind eye to Sarah's ministrations, she considered herself safe. Yes, Sarah was in her bed, but as long as she didn't permit her clone to stay after they fucked, and she kept up her lists when things became _difficult_ , Rachel was the same Rachel. Cold, impassive, self-serving Rachel. It was who she knew. It was the reflection in the mirror who she recognized in a crisp, white skirt suit. It was who she had always known.

And then Sarah stayed. One late evening, she didn't get up to leave Rachel's bed after she had rolled off of her, sweaty and spent. Instead, she grabbed at the expensive sheet and drew it close to her, sweeping hair out of her face and to Rachel's complete and utter surprise, she pulled the blonde into her body by the waist.

Rachel, too stunned to utter a word, could do nothing but freeze in place, with Sarah's arms anchoring her, feeling herself go rigid.

"Rachel," Sarah exhaled from somewhere low in her throat. "What the bloody hell are we doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Sarah." She found her voice, wincing at how it wavered and making no move to shove the other woman away.

"You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Don't play coy, Rachel. It's doesn't suit you. You know what I'm talkin' about. This thing. You know it's not just sex, yeah? It stopped bein' just about fuckin' a long time ago and you bloody well know it."

Sarah's words furled forward right in the spot where her breathing grew ragged when she was alone at night before she made lists to convince herself her clone was shit and her heart began to pound before she could take a few deep breaths to steady herself.

Rachel turned to regard the woman whose hazel eyes were her own. "What would you like me to say exactly, Sarah?"

The punk sighed exasperatedly. "Jesus Christ, Rach, I dunno...something that lets me know you're human and not just Rachel Duncan-"

"Pro clobe?" She raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what I am to you?"

"No," Sarah's voice softened considerably as her fingers skimmed down Rachel's neck, her collarbone gently whereas two months ago, her intent would have been only to scratch and maime, to leave her mark on her clone's perfect skin. "I mean,yeah, you've done some fuckin' awful things but all of us have. OK, maybe not Cos...but we do what we have to do to survive. I put a bloody pencil in your eye."

"And I stabbed you," Rachel noted wryly as she let a small sigh escape her lips in reaction to Sarah's light strokes up and down her arms. "Are we even then?"

"I'd like to think it's not about gettin' even anymore," The other woman said matter of factly. "I dunno exactly what it's about and what's gonna happen and it's gonna take some time to trust you..."

"Do you think I can be trusted? Or that I can trust you, for that matter?" Rachel's words were sluggish, the warmth from the punk's body making her drowsy. " Trust is a sign of weakness, Sarah. Love is weakness. And weakness leads to careless mistakes. You should know."

Sarah shook her head, ignoring the dig. "You once said you were nothin' like me. You remember? Well, I think we're a hell of alot more alike than you think...because I don't trust people either. I never used to anyway. I've been on my own my whole life...livin' to get by, not carin' who I used and why...hurtin' my own daughter, even though I never meant to..." Her eyes were bright as she tipped Rachel's chin up to meet them. "So that I get, Rachel. I get what it's like to be lied to and broken and bein' constantly mad at the whole bloody world."

Silence.

To Rachel's horror, a single tear had spilled over but before she could wipe it away, she felt Sarah's fingers on her face, sweeping over the wetness. Instead of saying anything, her clone tugged Rachel in closer, intertwining their bodies into a safe cocoon. And she didn't know if it was because of Sarah's words (or her own reluctance to admit that yes, perhaps they shared more than just the same face and the same body)or the other woman's admission that it wasn't simply just a physical thing for her, but Rachel let more silent tears fall into Sarah's hair. The punk remained quiet but drew comforting circles onto her back (so unlike Sarah, Rachel thought), holding her there.

After a while, Rachel lifted her head and dried her eyes, Sarah watching as she steeled herself. The moment had passed and Rachel's face molded back into it's usual unreadable mask.

"So the ball is your court, yeah?" Sarah moved slightly so that there was some space between them. "We can figure out what this is...keep goin' or I can leave right now."

"Sarah," Rachel regarded her coolly, "Don't you know I could end you?"

If her clone's words took her aback, she didn't let on. "Yeah," She replied, unblinking. "But you haven't. You won't."

 _Such cheekiness,_ Rachel thought without any venom behind it (which surprised her more than anything else).

"No," she admitted quietly. "No, I won't."

"So..." Sarah hedged. "You want me to-"

She was cut off as Rachel pinned her down. "What do you think, Sarah?"

It was the beginning of the end of the uber bitch.


End file.
